


Five Times Steve and Bucky Protected Each Other During the War

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Captain America (2011), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU where Steve never gets the serum but is still in the army, Angst, First Time, M/M, Protectiveness, World War II, pre-serum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt at comment-fic on livejournal: "Steve/Bucky, if Steve had been deployed at the same time as Bucky and never injected with the serum."  Includes:  their first time together, their experiences in the same army unit, etc.  References to sad canon events, bullying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Steve and Bucky Protected Each Other During the War

1\. “Hey, Steve, I’m going through my canteens like crazy. You think you could share some of your water?” Bucky asked. Their unit was on a 4- day covert hike in the Alps, and they each carried a rack of canteens hooked below their backpack so they wouldn’t have to risk being discovered looking for water. 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said without hesitation. 

“You think maybe I could keep some of your canteens on me? Case I need them?”

“Sure,” Steve answered and took his pack off to hand Bucky some. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Bucky said, with a little smile and a nod, and started transferring the canteens. Steve gave him half of his own but then Bucky reached for more, taking three fourths of the canteens and placing them on his own pack. Steve was a little taken aback but he reminded himself that Bucky wouldn’t ask if he didn’t really need that much.

“You think you can spare some of your food, buddy?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Bucky took half of Steve’s canned food and put it on his own pack. Steve didn’t mind. He didn’t eat as much as Bucky anyway.

They continued their hike the rest of the day, and Steve tried not to drink too much water so he wouldn’t run out. But when one of his canteens went empty, Bucky handed back one of the ones he took and said, “I guess I took too many, why don’t you take one back.”

Later, when it was time for dinner, before Steve could retrieve a can from his store, Bucky had already opened two cans and handed one to him. It was rations and they were cold (fires attract eyes), but after hiking all day it was good to eat anything. 

At night, they settled in two-man tents, covering their tents in leaves to stay warm and hidden. As they huddled to keep warm, Bucky tried to regale Steve with a story of a lady he met at a dancehall. Steve turned the other way and ignored him.

“Steve?”

“Steve?” he repeated.

“Come on, man, what’s wrong?”

Steve turned back around, eyes hostile. 

“I can carry my own pack,” he said, sharpness in the cold air.

Even in the darkness, Steve could see Bucky grimace.

“I don’t need you to do things for me,” Steve said. True, Bucky’s scheme had given him 20 pounds less to carry, had made hiking the steep hills easier. There wasn’t a repeat of the day before, when the unit had to stop because he had an asthma attack (that Bucky told everyone was an unusual form of battle fatigue). 

But Steve needed Bucky to believe in him a hell of a lot more than he needed his friend to play pack mule. 

Once, right before they found a way to trick the army doctors, Bucky had said that he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to hide his health problems so he could enlist. It was first time Steve had spoken to him in deep, unrepentant anger, and even though Bucky apologized, there was still something a little brittle between them. 

Bucky sighed. “Come on, man.” He didn’t deny it. No point insulting Steve’s intelligence on top of everything.

“Tomorrow we put the packs the way they were,” Steve insisted. 

Bucky paused. 

“Or else I’ll refuse to take back any of the water and food you took.”

Bucky said, “You know that’s blackmail, right?”

“Too bad.”

Bucky let out a laugh. But he knew that Steve would stand by his words. Even his annoying, stubborn, overly proud words. 

“Fine,” he said eventually, reluctantly, and Steve visibly relaxed. For all Steve’s good qualities, Bucky thought it was kind of infuriating the way Steve, somehow, always managed to get his way. With Bucky, and even with the US Army. 

Still, it was hard to stay mad when he could see Steve flash him his smile, a bright curve in the darkness, when he could feel Steve’s body moving closer for warmth.

“Okay, so tell me about this dancehall,” Steve said, and just like that, it was like any other night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2\. Steve wasn’t good at much in the army. He was good at following orders, at reading a map, but everyone knew he was weaker than everyone else. He could hide his coughs and pretend like he wasn’t hurting twice as much or more as the other men, but nobody was fooled. And if there were ever close combat, it wasn’t like anyone was placing their bets on Steve. 

But Steve knew that he had to excel at something. So he practiced shooting. And he practiced some more. 

Everyone told him that a sniper is born, not made, but Steve figured lack of natural gifts hadn’t stopped him before. So when he started being able to hit targets that no one in his unit could, they decided that maybe he wasn’t totally useless after all. 

Steve hated it. He was grateful to contribute, grateful – every day – to be in the Army. But he hated watching a fight unfold and know that his orders were to hang back, to never, ever jump into the fray. It felt unnatural to him, counter-instinctive. 

Cowardly. 

He knew that it wasn’t; he knew the strategic value of snipers. But he hated watching his team on dangerous missions from afar.

He stopped minding the day a German soldier was about to ambush Bucky. Steve took a clean shot and soon their unit was in a firefight. They had, for once, superior position, and they got out of it without casualties. 

After, Steve found his team, and there was a round of hugs and slaps on the back (that Steve pretended didn’t hurt). Bucky hugged him too, surrounding Steve with his arms, a tousle on the back of Steve’s head.

“My best friend the hero,” he grinned.

“Bet you’re surprised,” Steve said with a teasing smile.

Bucky looked confused, a little hurt. “Not really,” he said, and brought Steve in for another hug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3\. When he joined, everyone had hated him for being the weak link. Later, when he became the best shot, they warmed up to him pretty quickly; no one wants to be on the bad side of the guy making sure you don’t get stabbed by a kraut. And later after that, the officers finally realized that the PFC Rogers’ constant suggestions weren’t the ravings of a kid who didn’t know his place but actually very good strategies. At that point, even the people who still hated Rogers knew to keep their mouths shut. 

But for the first few months, it was a push, a shove, an obscene muttering about Steve, the other men harassing him daily. _Is Rogers dead yet? Give it a day. Hey what’s the difference between Steve and my dick? My dick’s taller._ It didn’t matter that Steve volunteered for the riskiest jobs, the ones everyone else was relieved not to have to take. It only mattered that his breath heaved when they had to run, that he coughed through the night.

Steve tried to take it as new-enlistee hazing, until someone went too far and punched the back of his head to the laughter of everyone there.

Just enough that there was no question; this wasn’t harassing the new guy. This was bullying.

Steve fought. Went down swinging. 

He might have been on the ground when Bucky showed up. Just possibly.

Bucky did as well in the fight as he always did. But it got rough with one of his fellow soldiers and Bucky broke the guy’s arm.

The CO ordered Bucky to his quarters and was considering kicking Bucky out of the army. But in front of the unit, Steve stood up and took the blame, saying that he started the fight. He loved the army more than life, but if anyone deserved to pay, it was him. 

The CO answered with a sigh. “Normally, I would say that a guy like you must have the sense not to start a fistfight. But having seen you in battle, I bet you jumped right in.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know that I could have you shot for causing dissension, soldier?” the CO said.

Every man in the unit tensed.

“Yes, sir. If that’s your decision, I accept that.”

The CO paused. “Rogers. Has anyone ever told you that you don’t have any fucking idea what’s in your own best interests?”

“All the time, sir.”

The other soldiers laughed, and for once, it felt like they were laughing with him, not at.

The CO faced them. “Anyone here have any other knowledge of this clusterfuck?”

Finally, one man, shamed by Steve’s willingness to take the brunt, said, “Sir, all of us there sort of started the fight.”

The CO crossed his arms and nodded. He didn’t look surprised. Finally, he said, “Rogers. Since our map-reader is out with a broken arm, that job is yours.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell your idiot friend Barnes to get off his ass and back to work.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4\. Bucky and Steve were at war for nearly a year before they slept together.

Bucky knew it was Steve’s first time, and he knew that even though Steve was playing it cool, he was a little bit terrified. But he didn’t say that he knew. He wouldn’t humiliate Steve for anything, not on purpose. 

Steve knew that Bucky was nervous, too, and not for the same reason.

When their bodies met, it was slow, lingering. Careful. Hands, lips, questions, answers. Smiles when something tickled, moans when something overwhelmed. 

It was an exercise in patience, each man desperately trying to ignore the years of suppressed desire and concentrate only on the moment, only on savoring the other man’s touch, smell, taste. 

It was awkward and overly cautious and sometimes uncomfortable.

It was also, somehow, perfect.

After, Steve’s hands sifted through Bucky’s hair as they lay close, limbs entangled, heat and heartbeats in close proximity. 

Steve could tell that Bucky was still nervous.

“I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you,” Steve said. 

Bucky looked up at him, surprised.

Steve continued, “You know I haven’t done… this. But this wasn’t so I could stop being a virgin. It wasn’t so I could learn how. I just really… wanted you.”

Bucky stared at him. He looked at the contours of Steve’s face, the lips pursed in sincerity, the eyes that Bucky could read like a paper. In their entire lives, Bucky had never been able to resist this face.

Not that this time he wanted to resist.

“Well, you’re good at getting what you want,” Bucky said with a smirk, the crack in his voice revealing more than he intended.

“I really am,” Steve said with a grin, with just a hint of cockiness that was just so _un-Steve-like_ that Bucky thought he could spend the rest of his life being surprised by Steve Rogers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5\. Steve wasn’t there when Bucky fell. He was hundreds of feet away, and there was nothing a bullet from a sniper rifle would do to lift Bucky back up to the living.

Everyone in the unit was nice to him, genuinely nice, as if they suddenly believed that Steve had feelings.

Steve barely noticed. Much of anything.

After a few days, his CO came to him. “Rogers. This is a tough loss for all of us. He was a great soldier.”

Steve nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He was barely paying attention.

“Rogers. That man was a good friend to you. And he knew how much being in the army meant to you. Didn’t he?”

Steve remembered then, the way Bucky tried, just once, to dissuade Steve from enlisting. It was the only time he remembered Bucky as appearing anything less than dignified, as anything less than Steve’s hero. Bucky had practically begged. 

Steve knew that Bucky had wanted him to stay home. He had wanted it _desperately_. 

Bucky had helped him join anyway. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And you still want to serve your country, don’t you, son?” 

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted, sir.” One of only two things he’s ever wanted.

“Then listen to me, son. You’re off your game. And it’s fine, for now. But you need to get your head on straight.”

“Yes, sir.”

The CO sighed and then spoke more gently. “Son. You want to do right by Barnes? You do your damn best to help us win the war that he died for. You become the best damn soldier you can. And you survive. You go home. And you visit his family and tell them that Barnes died a hero. You tell them that his heroism inspired you to do great things to defeat the Nazis. Do you understand, Private? Don’t you want to be able to do that for Bucky?”

There was a long silence. But Steve had heard him. For the first time in days, Steve felt… awake.

Finally: “Yes, sir.”

And his CO's words stayed with him, burrowed in him, and he learned to fight for both his country and his friend, he learned to wear his strength gracefully like Bucky did, even if it was never physical strength. Living and fighting was his way of taking care of Bucky, of his hero's memory. And there were times when it was this memory that kept him going; it was the memory that gave him the strength to hang on when he was about to fall, to keep pushing forward when he thought he would collapse in enemy territory. 

Somehow, after everything, Bucky was looking out for him still.

Years later, when Steve finally got back to New York, when the world (most of it) was celebrating, Steve knocked on the door of the Barnes’ house. 

“Steve,” said the voice who opened the door. Looking at his uniform, she said, “Oh, Steve. You’re a Captain? Bucky would have been so proud.”


End file.
